


a posteriori

by killyourdarlings (fluxwire)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluxwire/pseuds/killyourdarlings
Summary: A rejection of closure is what this is - a stubborn desire to remain an ambiguous entity rather than be a certain end.(Alternatively, Doyoung is the pull to Taeyong's push)last updated: 03/18/17





	

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** dysfunctional relationships, barebacking, slight ableist language (use of the word delusional as an insult), light alcohol use
> 
>  **03/18/17 update notes:** minor changes in prose to make the text flow better.
> 
> some [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rh1C8qpODZs) to read to.
> 
> i've been writing nct fic for a whole fucking year and i'm finally posting one. jesus christ. i'm glad i got this out. sorry i fucked over my own otp. hope you enjoy tho.
> 
> title and summary supremely taken out of context from [The Rejection of Closure by Lyn Hejinian.](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/essays/detail/69401)
> 
> thanks to my best friend kristine for all the hand holding xxx

The smell of grilled beef floods Doyoung’s senses, the hiss of oil in the sizzling heat so familiar yet foreign to his ears amidst the busy buzz of the store. It’s the last night of their Japan tour and relief emanates from their table as they toast to another successful tour completed.

Taeyong is beside him, all tired eyes and tight smiles and it brings him back to all those summer nights spent out too late in some hole-in-the-wall restaurant back in 2014. Taeyong is still gorgeous through it all, maybe even more so now that he’s been refined, roughed up to be the perfect leader the company has molded him to be. Doyoung breathes through his nose as he takes another shot of soju, relishing in the discomfort of its burn and the way it jars him back to the present. They’re here to celebrate, he reminds himself through the buzzing he feels beneath his skin.

Yuta’s already calling for another round of shots as soon as Doyoung empties his shot glass and Ten’s happily nursing his own bottle of soju to the far end of the table with Johnny worriedly watching over him. Hansol almost topples a bottle of soju as he reaches for the the side dishes. Taeil smiles through the merriment but leaves his own beer bottle untouched. Winwin is looking through the menu for specialty cocktails.

“I wish Jaehyun-hyung were here,” Mark laments as he flips the strips of beef in front of him carefully, with Donghyuck stealing three strips from Mark’s plate all the while. It gets lost in the drunken chatter of the group but Doyoung catches on, finds himself nodding in agreement. Jaehyun had rushed out of the stadium with his parents beaming incredulously on both side, barely bidding his own members goodbye as his parents whisked him away to an upscale tokyo restaurant his mother had been dying to go to.

Jaehyun isn't here for him to latch onto. Maybe that makes him drink twice as much as he would on a regular night, press himself up against Taeyong some more to feel Taeyong’s laughter reverberate through his being, warmth spreading through his skin when Taeyong’s fingers grip his thighs for support as Taeyong rises from their seat to walk to the open balcony.

Doyoung watches him with intent, heavy eyes focusing on the way Taeyong reaches for the pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of his jeans. Doyoung grips the edge of the wooden bench and stays frozen despite the itch in his soles telling him to move. He reminds himself that Jaehyun isn’t around to anchor him, ground him and his silver tongue with a look that reminds him of invisible lines he shouldn’t cross.

And so Doyoung carelessly dumps copious amounts of beef on his plate, forces two strips at a time into his mouth and dramatically stuffs himself out of spite - not for Jaehyun, god, no, never for Jaehyun. If Doyoung’s honest, he wishes he could hate him - just a little bit, but Jaehyun’s mother is celebrating her birthday and even at 27, he remains the perfect golden boy he was at 20, so Doyoung stuffs himself out of self-pity as he watches Taeyong’s slouching figure from where he’s seated.

Doyoung manages to last a whole hour and two soju bottles before his defenses crumble - he gives in and stands up, wobbling on his feet and waving off the other members’ offer to help. He wades through the mess of wooden chairs and tables to reach the balcony and shivers in the chilly January air as he chooses to stand a foot away from where Taeyong’s leaning against the railings. Taeyong keeps his head down, barely moving, ignoring Doyoung as he leans against the metal frame and obnoxiously stares at Taeyong’s face.

“You’re smoking,” Doyoung says after a while when he's grown tired of looking at all the steep planes and sharp edges of Taeyong's worn out face, and it makes him feel dumb (his statement, _not_ Taeyong's face - he clarifies to himself) because _of course Lee Taeyong is smoking,_ and he can already hear the thousand possible clapbacks Taeyong has prepared for him as he watches Taeyong take another drag, lit end burning brighter as he does.

“And you're drunk,” Taeyong says, blowing smoke at him. Doyoung coughs through it and feels oddly like a mosquito being shooed away.

“It’s not illegal,” Doyoung says weakly.

“Neither is this.” Another drag. Wisps of grey.

Doyoung stares at the growing pile of cigarette butts near Taeyong’s feet and sighs. “It’s bad for your health, hyung.”

“That’s none of your concern, _Doyoungie_.” Taeyong says, gaze cutting through Doyoung. Even in dim lighting he can see the way Taeyong’s jaw tenses, locking like he’s anticipating a jab, like it wouldn't be the first time that he's had to.

Doyoung breathes in, tries to focus on the feeling of hard metal digging into his back. He doesn't press on and they stand in silence for a while as Doyoung watches Taeyong let ashes fall from the butt of his cigarette and disappear below them, hands shaking, waiting as they hang over the edge of the black metal railings.

It’s always like this between them these days - almost fighting it out until the fight in either of them just snuffs itself out. Doyoung allows his shoulders to droop as he sighs and pushes himself off the railing to head indoors. He doesn’t expect the world to spin the way it does and he’s already hurling before he knows it.

-

“You’re really a handful, you know that?” Taeyong tells him once Doyoung’s been cleaned up. They're alone in Doyoung and Jaehyun’s hotel room and the air suddenly feels stiffer than it did back at the balcony. Taeyong sits on the edge of Jaehyun’s made bed, watching as Doyoung gulps down half a glass of water in haste.

Doyoung’s only just a little drunk now, and maybe he slurs his words on purpose when he asks, “Can’t you stay?”

Taeyong shakes his head, so firm and certain and unlike the time he’d told Doyoung he loved him.

“Don’t you _want_ to stay?” Doyoung’s eyes are pleading now. There’s a part of him that can’t quite bring himself to reconcile those two parts of Taeyong without invalidating the other, can’t accept that Taeyong can love him without wanting to stay here and now, so he chooses, no matter how selfish it may be, to hold onto the former.

Taeyong looks at him - _really looks_ at him - for the first time of the night, without the drunken haze and the heavy makeup and the cigarette smoke to mask anything on his face. His eyes are still tired and his lips are pressed into a thin line and Doyoung feels like he's being contemplated under his gaze.

“And what if I do? What are you going to do about it if I wanted to stay?” Taeyong asks, voice low and calm.

“I'm going to stay here, with you. Like I always have,” Doyoung says, breath hitching.

A beat, then Taeyong scoffs, “You're delusional.” He runs his fingers through his damaged hair, frustration visible in the way he aggressively grips at the strands before letting go. “You’ve never been with me, Doyoung. All this fucking time. You’ve never once really been _with me_. Not completely. Not without cutting out parts of yourself you didn’t trust me with. Not without treating me like some kind of bet you could keep on playing safe with. You can keep lying about being able to handle it, to handle me, but you're just as scared of trusting me as everyone else is.”

He takes a long and deep breath. Doyoung clenches his fists. “That’s why I can't stay, Doyoung. Not because I don't want to. But because _you_ don't want me to.”

“Are you done?” Doyoung says through his gritting teeth, glares at him as best as he can though he’s sure he can’t rival the way Taeyong’s eyes are boring holes through him. “You really think I didn’t try to give you as much of me as I could? Taeyong, I gave you everything I could and you still didn't think it was enough. You didn’t want to love me, you wanted to _own_ me. Of course I was fucking scared. I’m sorry, okay? I really am. I'm sorry that I couldn’t trust you because I was scared. I'm sorry was scared because that’s not fucking normal.”

Doyoung remembers their first kiss. It was almost chaste. He’d leaned in slowly, and softly pressed his lips against Taeyong’s. Taeyong’s fingers had wound itself through Doyoung’s hair, pulling Doyoung back into the kiss as soon as Doyoung had begun to pull back for air, deepening the kiss with an urgency Doyoung could feel himself drown under. He should’ve known back then that the way Taeyong had kissed, had nipped at his bottom lip and marked down his neck was not borne of affection. It makes him dizzy when the memory of Taeyong groaning against him mixes with the ringing sound of Taeyong’s rising voice.

“You think I don’t know that?” Taeyong exclaims, voice on the verge of breaking. “I know it’s not normal. I fucking know but I can't help it. I want every piece of you there is and if I can't have that I’d rather not have you at all,” he spits out, chest heaving as soon as he finishes. He presses his fingers against his temples and sighs, loud and heavy in the silent hotel room.

“You're smarter than this, Doyoung,” Taeyong starts, hands fumbling against the fabric of his pockets, searching. “Smarter than me,” he supplements, gesturing at his own rugged appearance. “You know this already. So why do you keep wanting to come back? You could have anyone -- you could have Jaehyun, for fuck’s sake. Jaehyun’s fucking perfect for all the fragmented parts of you. So why do you keep acting like I’m your only option?”

There's warmth building in Doyoung's chest - heavy and consuming like some parasite he needs to excise, and it drives Doyoung forward, makes him sit upright, and cross the distance between them far too quickly than his drunken self probably should. He kneels on the floor in front of Taeyong and looks into Taeyong’s eyes, notes the way Taeyong stiffens as Doyoung cups his face, thumbs softly tracing the dark dips that circle his tired eyes. Taeyong slowly relaxes into the touch, eyes melting into that familiar fondness Doyoung doesn't think he’ll ever be able to escape.

“I love you,” Doyoung whispers before he leans in, kissing Taeyong full on the lips because he doesn't think he can handle hearing Taeyong saying it back. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they know they shouldn’t, know that neither of them deserve this when they’ve both been ridiculously awful to each other, but it’s all lost the moment Doyoung moans out Taeyong’s name, when Taeyong’s lips move to lap up Doyoung’s jaw as Doyoung rises from the floor to push Taeyong onto the mattress.

It’s awkward like this, because it’s been so long and yet nowhere near long enough for them to forget. It’s hard to remember that they are not lovers when Taeyong’s hands still wander like they used to, fingers trailing down the curve of Doyoung’s back, hands settling to cup his ass and pull him closer. Doyoung curses under his breath as his hands struggle to work the buttons of Taeyong’s dress shirt, adjusting as he settles on top of Taeyong’s hips, thighs caging Taeyong beneath him. Doyoung grinds his hips slowly, cautiously, watching the way Taeyong’s eyelids grow heavy with arousal.

Taeyong lifts himself up and grabs Doyoung by the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, kissing him rough and heady as his tongue slips past Doyoung’s lips to tease against that soft spot at the roof of his mouth. Taeyong makes a quick work of their clothes, stripping them down to their boxers until Doyoung is back in his lap, moaning, arms wrapping around Taeyong’s neck as Taeyong sucks at the sensitive patch of skin at the crook of his neck. Taeyong tugs at the waistband of Doyoung’s boxers, rolling Doyoung onto the mattress as he pulls them down until Doyoung can kick them off.

“Do you have...?” The question dies in his throat as he stands and pulls down his own underwear. Doyoung nods and points to the bedside table and Taeyong tries very hard not to think about why Doyoung has lube and condoms in the drawer of a bedside table at a hotel, reminds himself that he’s not really allowed to think about that anymore. He’s holding the lube in one hand and looking for the condoms with the other when he hears Doyoung protest from where he’s lying.

“No condoms,” Doyoung says, hazy eyes looking straight at Taeyong. “I just-- I want to feel you. Please.”

“Shit,” Taeyong says, looking away because Doyoung has never looked as open and vulnerable in their wanting as he had then and Taeyong desperately wants to kiss the look off Doyoung’s face, so he does, rushing to Doyoung’s side to press their lips together.

Doyoung can hear the bottle of lube open but he still gasps against Taeyong’s mouth when he feels Taeyong’s fingers wrap around his erection, pumping him torturously slow as Taeyong pulls away from his lips and moves downwards, littering kisses all over exposed skin until his mouth reaches Doyoung’s crotch.

Doyoung’s chest heaves as he feels Taeyong tentatively press the tip of his tongue against the leaking slit. Taeyong’s licks up the underside of his cock and Doyoung groans, open-throated and unrestrained. He grips helplessly at the bedsheets when Taeyong takes him in, lush lips wrapping around his dick, going slowly until the tip of his dick hits the soft spot near the back of Taeyong’s throat. Taeyong holds him there and he feels five seconds too close to coming when he feels Taeyong pull off, head bobbing and free hand pumping the rest of his length.

Taeyong sits upright, watching Doyoung unravel between his spread legs and commits the image to memory. He slathers his fingers with copious amounts of lube, giving Doyoung a look before he circles Doyoung’s rim with a finger. Doyoung nods like he understands even through the arousal and Taeyong slowly eases the digit in.

It takes a while for Doyoung’s tense muscles to melt into the pleasure even with the generous amount of lube and the distraction of Taeyong’s tongue on his, like his body knows this shouldn’t be. He shuts his eyes close and forces those thoughts out of his mind, focusing on the feeling of Taeyong’s body pressed against his, fingers buried deep inside him.

“God, just fuck me already,” Doyoung whines, pitchy and breathless when Taeyong’s finger finds his prostate, making Taeyong smirk against his cheek before he pulls his fingers out.

He doesn’t have time to feel empty because Taeyong’s already slicking up his own erection, head already pressing against his hole. “Shit, Doyoung, you’re still so tight even after all that prep,” Taeyong groans as he pushes further, filling Doyoung up with his length until he bottoms out. He keeps still for a while, leaning down to press his lips against Doyoung’s forehead before he can stop himself. Doyoung shifts his head so he can kiss Taeyong properly as he moves his hips to fuck himself on Taeyong’s cock.

“Fuck,” Doyoung says half a dozen thrusts later when he feels Taeyong hit his prostate. Taeyong fucks back into the same angle fervently and he can sense his arousal reaching its peak, almost breaking when Taeyong wraps a hand around his erection and flicks his wrist, quick and efficient.

“I’m close,” Taeyong whispers against his cheek.

“Me too, fuck, yeah, like that,” Doyoung says, almost babbling with the way Taeyong’s hitting his prostate with every single thrust. He has to bite down on his bottom lip when Taeyong picks up the pace and starts fucking into him faster, coming when Taeyong presses a thumb against the slit of his cock.

Taeyong fucks him through his orgasm, doesn’t stop pumping his cock until he’s completely milked through. Doyoung rolls his hips back against Taeyong, and Taeyong comes, filling him up, thrusting through the aftershocks of the climax.

When Taeyong pulls out, Doyoung half expects him to leave like that, but Taeyong kisses his nose and tucks them both to sleep and whispers “I love you” into Doyoung’s ear as he sleeps.

-

Doyoung wakes up to the sound of insistent knocking. He grumbles and spreads his arms only to feel the tangled mess of the sheets beside him. He turns, stares at the ceiling, and listens to the intrusive knocking. He grips the fabric and laughs bitterly.

-

Doyoung is tipsy again. It’s the end of the encore leg in Seoul and their managers are indulging them. He holds onto Jaehyun’s arm for his dear life as he laughs at Ten’s grimace when he downs a shot too quick, and Taeyong is sat on the far side of their table, smiling through it all. Taeyong doesn’t leave the table, doesn’t smoke a single cigarette the whole night, and Doyoung holds his alcohol. The night ends with zero casualties and even if Taeyong and Doyoung look away from each other without sharing a smile, no one else really has to know.

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone asks, they're in a korean restaurant in jpn but i'm too lazy to specify it in the text i'm sorry
> 
> anyway thanks for reading concrit is very much welcome


End file.
